I have recently received feedback from a couple of my readers. This was very exciting. Seeing a world I create through other’s eyes is magical. Understanding how the reader interprets a story is vital for an author. When I write, I don’t just see the characters. There is a complete saga that unfolds. Parts of the story will write itself. However, the world will not create itself. That relies on the authors imagination and wits.

I recently heard about story generators and sent two of my characters through this wonderful contraption. Wonderful is used as “full of wonder”, not “great” or “spectacular. I found myself squinting and whispering “Whaaat?”. It’s four in the morning, thus the whispering.

At any rate, I am glad I have been given a child’s imagination that will not die. I’ve matured and love being an adult. Nevertheless, my childlike imagination seems to bring a positive light to every situation life offers. Most would find it annoying. I find it to be a blessing.

Without further adieu I present the AI generated story.

Sarah Sarrah had always loved modern American Eastcoast Herald with its bloody, burnt Bronze eagle statue. It was a place where she felt worried.

She was a loyal, funny, beer drinker with blonde toes and skinny fingers. Her friends saw her as a fat, frantic friend. Once, she had even revived a dying, baby. That’s the sort of woman he was.

Sarah walked over to the window and reflected on her busy surroundings. The drizzle rained like sitting kittens.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Wilson Maddox. Wilson was a mean ogre with solid toes and ginger fingers.

Sarah gulped. She was not prepared for Wilson.

As Sarah stepped outside and Wilson came closer, she could see the juicy smile on his face.

“Look Sarah,” growled Wilson, with a considerate glare that reminded Sarah of mean koalas. “I hate you and I want More work. You owe me 9249 dollar.”

Sarah looked back, even more stubborn and still fingering the majestic rock. “Wilson, do a better job,” she replied.

They looked at each other with dedicated feelings, like two powerless, poised puppies eating at a very admirable morning meeting, which had jazz music playing in the background and two arrogant uncles smiling to the beat.